


Rev

by puptart



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: AFAB Runner Five, Other, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Runner Five deserves a good dicking down after everything they go through ffs, Season 1 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24712363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puptart/pseuds/puptart
Summary: Runner Five is drawn to Ed in a way they can't quite define. Ed, however, can define it quite clearly. A smutty fic done by request.
Relationships: Runner Five/Ed Harrison
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Rev

**Author's Note:**

> I've been taking some smutty requests over on Tumblr recently, and this was the first one I got. Technically I think it was a joke, but I NEVER joke about smut. So have a very rarepair.

Being a runner means having a pretty full schedule most days. Even when you’re not running missions, you’re training, and when you’re not training, you’re sent off to help take care of whatever miscellaneous tasks need doing around Abel. 

That’s really how you got to know Ed, besides rescuing his daughter Molly from the zombie wilds. You don’t entirely count that, considering you’d barely exchanged a handful of words during the entire ordeal. Something about him had stuck with you, and that something is what keeps you coming to him whenever you’ve got idle time. 

He’s not a prickly man at all, though he does not accept help easily, even when he clearly could do with some. This has led to many hours spent with you trying to help him fix generators, cars, more generators-- all in vain, because he’d just say, “I’ve got it” every time.

Maybe he thinks he’s being nice, but there’s nothing worse than just milling around with nothing to do but watch him work. Sure, he’s particularly easy on the eyes, but even you can only spend so much time admiring the man’s shoulders. If you’re going to be spending your time around him, you want it to be productive.

That’s why you’re here now. 

“I don’t need help today,” he says without looking as you enter the dark, mostly empty garage. There aren’t many vehicles in Abel, but this is where the few are kept, and it is devoid of human life beyond the two of you. There’s only one light-- a weirdly out of place floor lamp that must’ve been scavenged out of some import store-- that leaves Ed illuminated in the single puddle of light afforded the dark building.

“You don’t need help ever,” you say, heat in your voice at his dismissive tone. He stops then, the gentle clinking of his tools going quiet. 

“...I’m just tuning up the bike,” Ed says from where he’s sat in front of his motorcycle, turning to glance at you uncertainly over his shoulder. His long hair is pulled back into a ponytail, unkempt now from a long day of work. The thought of combing through his hair with your fingers and redoing it for him sticks in your brain before you can shake it loose.

“And I’m not here to help this time.” You skirt around the whole affair of tools and grease and lugnuts or whatever, so you’re standing on the other side of his motorcycle, facing him down. You brace your hands on the leather seat, and he blinks up at the intensity of your gaze.

“What d’you need?” he asks, almost sounding bewildered.

“I need to know why the hell you keep wasting my time.” Your fingers curl against the leather seat, jaw tight. 

He holds your gaze for a long time, almost longer than you can bear, but you’re so captivated by what you see in his eyes that you cannot break away. There’s definitely something there, but you can’t read what it is. It’s a relief when he takes up his tools again to do his work, freeing you as he looks away.

“I don’t see how I’m wasting your time,” he says gruffly. 

“Really? Because I don’t know what else to call me just _hanging out_ while you insist on doing everything on your own.”

“And who exactly is stopping you from doing something better with your time? There are other mechanics in Abel.” He levels another look at you, and it dries up your words. 

This isn’t how this conversation was supposed to go. You’d hoped to gripe at him, and have him admit he needs you around and agree to let you help him. Maybe you should’ve expected he was just waiting for you to get bored enough to leave him alone instead. That something that draws you to him clearly isn’t drawing him towards you. The thought strikes with the sting of a whip.

“Well pardon _me_ , then,” you hiss, trying not to acknowledge the hurt in your chest. Whatever. Fine. You won’t stay anywhere you aren’t wanted.

It’s as you’re nearing the big sliding door that leads out that you hear a heaved sigh and a, _“Wait.”_

Part of you thinks _fuck it_ , you’ve made enough of a fool of yourself. Why wait around to be more of a burden? Running from problems is your thing. 

But you’re weak, so you wait to hear what he has to say.

“It’s hard,” he says, voice strained. You turn and furrow your brow. He’s standing now, a half step taken towards you.

“What is? Accepting that you’re not a magician and need help sometimes?” You roll your eyes. “I know I’m not at your level of expertise but--”

“Not that,” Ed interrupts, not to be rude you think. There’s a pinched look around his mouth like he’s struggling with what he has to say, and if he doesn’t say it now it might never get said. So you wait some more. He wets his lips. “I know it’s been months, and others have lost people, but with Becca…”

Eyes widening, you realize this conversation has taken a sharp turn away from petty annoyance to something far more serious. Not that Ed looks pleased about that either.

“I’m not trying to…” You shake your head, not even sure what to _say_ to that. Ed is ridiculously attractive, everyone in the township agrees, but as far as you know no one has tried anything. Not with him being so newly made a single father. He’s still wearing his wedding ring for Christ’s sake. 

The smile he gives you is sad and pinched. “I know.”

“Then what’s this about?”

“You’re not trying, but I am,” he says simply. _Oh_. “I’m not ready to move on from her, mind you, but I am ready for… certain things.”

There’s no missing the implication there, and even in the dim lighting, you can see him staring at your mouth intently. This is _definitely_ not how you expected this conversation to go. You feel off balance, but the swooping sensation in your stomach is not at all unpleasant. 

“I have absolutely no objections to that,” you say, your heart already thumping hard, even as you remember that he was _just_ talking about his dead wife. Maybe this is not the best time.

Except as soon as you say that he lets out a breath that releases what must’ve been a terrible weight on his shoulders. He straightens and takes another step towards you. Like a hooked fish being reeled in, you move towards him, meeting somewhere in the middle.

It’s not nearly as clumsy as you expected, given the amount of fervor involved. His hands are strong and sure as they pull you against his solid form, and you see stars when his mouth meets yours in a hungry kiss. There’s almost always a learning curve with these sorts of fumbles, but Ed Harrison clearly knows how to fuck well. 

Ed Harrison also has about as much patience as you do. Within moments of catching your breath, you’re being turned around by the hips and bent over the seat of the motorcycle with a broad, warm hand on the middle of your back.

“Presumptuous,” you say as if your entire body isn’t on fire. You throb between your legs, and it takes everything in you not to tilt your hips back when he starts tugging your leggings down to your knees. The rush of cold air against you draws a gasp from your throat.

“Eager,” he corrects with a laugh. You can’t help but return it, though the sound chokes off as he grips your ass tight in his strong hands. “Alright?”

“God yes, _please.”_

There’s a jingle of a belt from behind you, the soft rasp of shifting fabric, and then you feel him pressing up against you. One hand takes your hip in a firm, but gentle grip as he fills you up, inch by aching inch. You moan aloud, which draws a chuckle from him.

“Easy, Five,” he says, then clears his throat. “We, ah-- Wouldn’t want anyone to hear, yeah?”

“Maybe I’m into that,” you reply with some difficulty, wishing he’d hurry up. Since he won’t, you rock your hips back against him to take the rest of his cock in one fell swoop. He grunts in surprise, fingers tightening. You hope he leaves bruises.

“So that’s how it is?”

“Uh huh.”

“Alright,” he says, and you like the way the words rumble low in his chest.

With both hands on your hips now, Ed pulls out nice and slow, then drives into you hard. The impact sends an explosion of stars behind your eyes, and you gasp aloud. Each snap of his hips into you sends electricity up your spine, and _fuck_ you’ve needed something just like this. You think he needed it too, going by the insistent way he fucks into you like he’s chasing something. The leather seat creaks as your hands struggle to find purchase on the smooth surface, and you have to be careful to hold yourself up, lest you send the whole thing toppling. It’s not easy when your knees are made of jelly. 

“Ah!” you cry. He’s pulling against you now, tugging your ass to meet each of his thrusts, the _slap slap slap_ of skin on skin echoing in the mostly empty space around you. It’s a sound so filthy your cheeks burn, your nerve endings lighting up. 

“That’s it,” Ed murmurs. “Fuck, you feel good--”

It’s almost too much, you _need_ to come now. You reach between your legs, rubbing yourself, and it only takes moments before your spine bends from the rush of pleasure that rocks through you. You let out a yell that can’t be mistaken for anything else, a gentle hand quick to slot over your mouth to silence you as you wail uncontrollably. 

With a shiver, your hand stills between your legs. The rest of you stills as well, save the heaving of your chest. Ed chuckles, letting his hand slide down over your throat, then down your torso all the way back to your hip. 

“Very good,” he says.

You don’t know whether to be pleased or tell him to fuck off. He’s apparently fucked your brains out well enough that you can’t be bothered to figure it out. In either case, he hasn’t stopped for even a moment. Each pound of his hips against the back of your ass sends dull, easy pleasure through your still sensitive body, your moans lower and less fevered. 

“God that’s--” You moan, letting your head hand down. 

“Still alright?”

“Yeah, I-- Ah!” You whimper as you feel another orgasm building. It almost feels _too_ soon, you’ve barely recovered your footing from the first, but Ed is absolutely relentless, all the more so as you voice your enjoyment. 

With a deep, throaty groan of his own, Ed slams into you hard enough that you almost worry about tipping over the motorcycle. He bends forward over your back as his warmth fills you up and spills down your thighs. Your breath hitches in your chest, eyes unfocusing. There’s nothing but the sounds of his panted breaths, the sensations of him inside of you, and the steadily growing need for _just a little more--_

You’re not made to suffer long. Ed presses his forehead to the center of your back for just a moment to catch his breath before he pulls out and you hear the rustle of him pulling his pants back up. With uncoordinated limbs, you try to do the same, but he’s faster, and he gets an arm around your middle to tug your back against his chest.

“One more?” he asks, his free hand already skimming over your lower belly and you can’t help the shiver that runs through you.

“I’ll take as many more as you’ll give,” you say, tongue heavy like you’re drunk. 

“Say no more.”

His hand slips further down between your legs, and for a man with such big, thick fingers he has a remarkable nimbleness as he works you over. Arching back against him, your head pressed back against his shoulder, you just try to hang on for the ride. The sensation of his hand on you, the wet warmth dripping down your thighs, it’s all _so_ much. His lips meet the exposed length of your neck, the very edge of his teeth scraping over your pulse point as he draws another orgasm from you. This one doesn’t explode out of you like the first had, but flicks out over you like a blanket before settling deep in your limbs. You can do little more than shake against his solid body until it ebbs. 

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp breathlessly. Despite your earlier words, you tap at his hand, unsure you can take much more than that. He draws his hand away but doesn’t release you before he’s pressed another kiss to your neck.

You do your best to put yourself back to rights, though you’ll definitely need a shower as soon as possible. The mess that you are is so worth what you got out of it though. Going off the mellow, easy smile on Ed’s face as he watches you, you can’t help but think he’s feeling quite the same.

“I could blow you,” you offer, letting your voice go rich and low. That smile grows, but not in hunger.

“Not this time,” he says. The promise of a _next_ time is more than enough to satiate you. Then he nods at his tools and says, “I’d best get back to it.”

“Alright,” you say, and a sudden uncertainty settles over you. He sees it, and squeezes your arm.

“Come around tomorrow after your runs, yeah? I need a little help with the Jeeps.”

Something bubbles up frantically in your chest like you’ve drunk too much soda too fast, and you smile brightly.

“Yeah.” The spot where he’d touched your arm is still warm, even as he lets his hand fall back to his side. You rub it unconsciously. “See you then.”

He nods, and you go. If he laughs at how stiffly you walk, well, you pretend not to hear him. You suspect you’ve got a lot of that coming in your future.


End file.
